i calculated the nights you missed
by aquestionof-control
Summary: "What, like run away with you?" Amy asked. Sherlock didn't have a chance to answer before she'd leaned over and kissed him.
1. Chapter 1

Checking the clock on his phone screen, Sherlock frowned faintly when he saw that the time had only changed by two minutes. It felt like it had been much longer than that. Closing his eyes, he slumped further down along the bench. Fifty-six more minutes, and he was out of Leadworth. Again. If their mother hadn't been so pleased about Mycroft dragging him home, Sherlock wouldn't have bothered staying the last week.

He opened his eyes to check the time again - surely it had been more than two minutes this time - and found a tall girl standing in front of him, her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes shooting daggers at him. It wasn't the first time a girl had given him an angry look, but usually it was after they'd tried to engage him in conversation. "Hello?"

"How long have you been in town?" The Scottish accent made him widen his eyes. He gave the girl another, more minute look. Amelia didn't look much like the little girl he'd left behind three years ago. For one thing, Amelia had never directed that look at him.

"Tuesday," he said, trying to reconcile this leggy, grown up looking teenager with the Amelia he remembered.

That must have been the wrong answer, because her eyes narrowed. "You've been here for a _week_?"

Sherlock didn't understand why she was upset with him. And he still had another fifty-two minutes left until the train. "Mycroft insisted."

"And, what, you couldn't say hi?" She asked scathingly. "I know you can't pick up a phone, but you could've come to the house. Aunt Sharon never scared you before."

"Amelia-"

"Amy," she corrected.

Sherlock tilted his head. "Since when?"

"Since I got too old for fairy tales."

Suddenly Sherlock was reminded of a wide-eyed little girl talking about a raggedy doctor calling her name a bit fairy tale. The idea of Amelia - Amy - letting go of the Doctor didn't particularly bother him. Rory had likely been elated about it. But he wondered if that had something to do with her anger. "I'm going back to London."

"Yeah, I noticed," she said.

"You should too," he countered, and was pleased to see surprise replace the anger in her face.

"What, like run away with you?" Amy asked. Sherlock didn't have a chance to answer before she'd leaned over and kissed him.

For a moment Sherlock's brain seemed to stop working, focusing solely on the feel of her mouth on his. Then it was moving on overdrive, cataloguing everything from Amy's hands holding the back of the bench on either side of him to the toe of her converse stepping on the toe of his shoe to her hair falling on the side of his face. He had barely reacted before she broke the kiss, and he found himself wishing she hadn't moved. She studied his face, and he wondered if she was going to kiss him again. And how he felt about that. He didn't have a chance to figure it out because she pulled back and straightened up, tossing her hair out of her face. "Think I'll pass," Amy finally said. "Bye, Sherlock."

When she turned and walked away, he didn't try to stop her. He watched her for a second before dropping his gaze down to his phone. Forty-nine minutes.


	2. Chapter 2

Stalking through Leadworth, Amy fumed. She'd been upset with Sherlock ever since he'd stopped calling her, only a couple of weeks after he'd gone off to London. Finding out that he'd been back for an entire week, and not once letting her know, hurt her more than anything else. If it hadn't been for Mrs Williams gossiping with Aunt Sharon about him, she'd have completely missed him. She kicked at a pebble in her way. What about her made it so easy for people to forget her? First the Doctor, then Sherlock. Maybe her parents had too. And Aunt Sharon probably wished that she could.

Sherlock had asked her to leave with him, sort of. And if she was honest, she wanted to. Leaving Leadworth and having adventures was all she'd wanted for the last nine years, and when he'd offered her that it was only her hurt at being abandoned, again, that made her say no. He'd probably have just forgotten her as soon as the train out of town had arrived if she hadn't kissed him anyway. Thinking about that, she couldn't help a small smirk. It had been an impulse, something she'd wanted to do for years, and the expression on his face afterwards had been the cherry on top. Somehow Amy doubted he'd forget that.

As quickly as it had come, her smirk faded and she was back to cursing Sherlock. Bastard. A small dog's yapping interrupted her thoughts, and she scowled at the Jack Russell as soon as she spotted it across the street. That only seemed to set it off worse, not that his owner tried to shut it up. She was just about to go tell off the woman when someone touched her shoulder. Spinning around, ready to take out her anger on whomever it was, Amy frowned when she realized it was Sherlock. "What do you want?" she asked, immediately on the defensive.

"You're not staying here," Sherlock said, giving the nearest building a dirty look.

Amy raised her eyebrows. "Why not?" Deep down Amy knew if he asked her to leave with him again, she wouldn't say no. Not when the chance to run away was right in front of her. But she would make him ask her again; it would be a tiny victory, but she was still smarting from being ignored.

"Because it's _boring_." He spat out the word as though it was the worst insult he could think of. Knowing Sherlock it might have been. "And you never liked it," he added quietly, his gaze still on the building's side.

Amy softened slightly. Still, she didn't know if she could just run away with this boy who'd forgotten her for three years. "Maybe I like it now," she said, faking the defiance in her voice.

He met her eyes, his eyebrows raised. "Don't be stupid."

She scoffed. "I'm not the one who forgets people."

He tilted his head, understanding and guilt slowly replacing the confusion on his face. Feeling stupid for letting that slip, Amy looked down at the cracks in the concrete they were standing on. She hated cracks. They always seemed to be there when she was upset. Clearing her throat, she looked back up at him. He still had that look on his face, and she wanted it gone. "I'm not stupid, stupid," she mocked. The expression didn't leave his face and he didn't return her insult, to her chagrin.

He closed the distance between them until they were an inch apart before leaning down and brushing his lips against hers. It was too quick for Amy to properly react, and she just looked at him with wide eyes. It had been the most chaste kiss she could remember experiencing, and she wasn't sure it even qualified as a kiss, but it was still the last thing she expected from him. He pulled away as quickly as he'd leaned towards her, looking as unsure as she'd ever seen him. "I'm sorry."

Amy smiled at him. "C'mon," she linked her arm around his and faced him in the direction of the train station. "Let's run away."


End file.
